Salvaging Solace
by Circe Le Rouge
Summary: While Dagger, Vivi, Steiner, and Beatrix undergo a voyage that takes them all around Gaia, Eiko presides over the kingdom of Alexandria. The group is in search to end Zidane's 10 year, mysterious absence.


"Dagger," Zidane whispered into ruffled hair, his voice slightly muffled.

"Mmm?" Dagger turned her head slightly to look at her husband, wanting him to be aware that he had her full attention, though she didn't bother to open her eyes. The sun was setting along the shores of the water, threatening darkness ever so idly, toying casually with the idea of nighttime. Eventually, the sun had begun to pull away from its daily embrace, taking with it little rivulets of warmth and comfort, leaving in its absense something rather crisp and bitter. It was frankly rather refreshing and awakening, as opposed to the repressive and overbearing nature it's most certainly capable of harboring. Spring usually did that, though.

"Dagger, are you awake...?" Zidane prodded her gently, pushing stray strands of hair away from her face. She smiled and rolled back over, half of her smile pressing into his lap, half of it lost in the air. Dagger cupped a hand around her ear, and Zidane took it as his cue to continue. "Oh... uh, about tomorrow..."

Dagger nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. Her words thereafter came so softly, suddenly, and mixed so inexplicably with the sounds of lapping water that Zidane almost didn't hear her.

"Our anniversary. Aren't you supposed to forget?" She lauged jokingly, curling herself into a smaller ball on Zidane's lap, and burying her head further into his chest.

_Our _anniversary. _How could I have forgotten? There's no way I can tell her now... I can't ruin this for her._ Zidane chanced a glance down at his wife, so carefully entwined with him right now. He couldn't even recall how they'd gotten that way. Not that it imposed something unfavorable in his mind... at all. And that never was the case. Perhaps it was only the fact that they still seemed to fit together so perfectly that startled him. Was it really only two years ago that he held her in his arms for the first time? That moment in _itself_ seemed to last two years, and if that one single instant manipulated his sense of time so badly...

What would 10 years away from her do to him? To her? To their marriage?

It wasn't an option. He had to leave, he had to help. But how could he salvage any of this? He couldn't possibly take Dagger with him; she would never hope to belong where he was going. Not only that, he couldn't even _tell _her where he was going. Breaking his vow of secrecy, breaking the tentative trust, bound merely by the loose ties of species and some precarious persuasion on his part, would certainly result in the destruction of anything he ever cared about. He may be daring, bold, and a tad too impulsive, but this was a risk that shouldn't be taken. But was it worth slicing through layers upon layers of trust so lovingly built with his wife? Perhaps she would understand his reluctance to come to bed tonight... He had to be gone by sunrise, and there was still so much to do, too much to think over.

"Zidane?" Dagger rose slowly out of his lap, all traces of a sleepy repose diminished by a looming weightiness in the air. Her eyes flicked every which way, as if she could catch this invisible disturbance out of the corner of her eye. Maybe her confusion came from the lingering drag of sleep encircling her, but she continued to look for a tangible culprit to blame. Her blatant drive for discovery unsettled Zidane, and her familiar spark of intuition was too short of a warning.

"Zidane, what's going on?" She was awake enough now to know better than to turn to the sky for an explanation, and instead rounded swiftly on Zidane. It became harder and harder to hide things from her anymore, and the obvious waves of tension radiating from him, infesting and plaguing the otherwise tranquil night, were surely enough to feed her suspision. He had to react quickly... what would he have done back in his Tantalus days? Why couldn't it come? Why wasn't his way out obvious? No knife, no sword could solve this kind of problem.

Aha! But, there was a way... just one. Whoever said a sword was the perfect weapon never had a wife...

Zidane took hold of Dagger as gently as he could, pushing thoughts of nothing to the front of his brain, trying furiously to wordlessly glorify nameless and intricate fallacies, throwing himself without caution into them, wanting himself to believe them. Wanting himself not to know what he does, wanting not to be needed. But he had to help. It was just who he was.

He looked straight into Dagger's eyes... and smiled. Her heart melted, and his, quite honestly, broke. Deception was the only thing it hurt to be good at...

"Nothing. Are you alright? You look flustered. Maybe you should sleep." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. Perhaps everything would flow smoothly tonight, after all.

Dagger sat back on her heels for a moment, gazing curiously and unblinkingly at Zidane. Her eyes, still struggling for some kind of answer, no matter how feeble, penetrated his, and then he knew.

She knew.

"Zidane..." she began, disregarding any attempt to alter the appearance of her emotions. The concern on her face was etched so heavily, worn so fiercely, that looking at her was too overwhelming for him. He clambered swiftly to her, wrapped his arms around her, and felt her shake slightly beneath him.

"Please, don't say anything."

"Zidane..." Dagger pulled ever so slightly away. "I don't want to ask any questions." She shook her head slightly, and despite herself, despite everything, there wasn't one tear that offered its soulful compensation. "But please..."

"Dagger, don't..." She took off her neckalce, her mother's pendant, and fastened it around Zidane's neck. It fell with a soft thud against Zidane's chest, but hung with the bulk of an overbearing burden. It was full of the knowledge of what had to be done, coated in the sickly, sweet pain of leaving Dagger behind.

"Dagger..." Her eyes quieted him, and he saw in them a resolution that he hadn't seen since her determination to carry on and become queen. Their eyes locked, and what was only a moment seemed like an impenetrable forever. Time once again bent them to its will, insisting that this very second mean more than just an off-handed, impartial good bye.

Brown met blue and blue met brown. Fate, for the briefest of instances, met understanding, and a bond between the two formed without question. Dagger reached for her husband's hands, not daring to look down to find them, not daring to break the connection.

"Come home soon, Zidane."


End file.
